INCISION

it's like sepsis when you're months post-op.

the mirror flinched -- are you still alive?

i'd still crawl back to you, no matter what.

*

frost scabs a nearby rooftop, soft as rot;

streetlamps bleed through windows that don't cry.

it's like sepsis when you're months post-op.

*

the couch sags, gutted by a cop.

the milkshake joint still hums your alibi.

i'd still crawl back to you, no matter what.

*

the album's spine cracks with each teardrop,

your face bursts open each new page like something that won't die.

it's like sepsis when you're months post-op.

*

i left my razor in your bathroom, you let it rust and rot.

grief blooms like mold on the edge of a life.

i'd still crawl back to you, no matter what.

*

even now, when hate chokes, a fist around the throat;

when my body riots at the sound of your name -- i try.

but it's like sepsis when you're months post-op.

and i'd still crawl back to you, no matter what.